


In Vino Veritas

by Nightscrawl



Series: The Meaning of More [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 12:51:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightscrawl/pseuds/Nightscrawl
Summary: Where Dorian Pavus thinks too much.





	In Vino Veritas

**Author's Note:**

> Continued thanks to [Schattenriss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss) for doing the beta!

Dorian sat at the bar in The Herald’s Rest and drank as Cabot—the Inquisition’s acerbic barkeep—poured glass after glass of a honey-colored liquid and set each before him; a smooth, pleasant warmth accompanied every swallow. At this point, he had forgotten what he’d originally asked for. The most recent offering sat unattended as he stared at it, thinking, not really seeing it at all.

He thought about the Inquisitor and the status of… whatever this was that existed between them. Judah had sent some pretty clear signals of interest, and Dorian had returned some of his own. But his remark, “I was hoping to get to know you better,” framed alongside a thought about “us” was puzzling. What was it that Judah wanted from him? He was clearly interested in him physically and had a desire for him, that much was evident from a previous encounter. But he could tell that there was a reticence there, something holding Judah back from taking what he wanted. No… that assumption was unfair, and not reflective of anything the other man had said or done, not in the “taking,” and not in assuming “what he wanted.” Dorian couldn’t tell _what_ Judah wanted and that was the problem.

Although he liked Judah as a friend, had an attraction to him, and had accepted the suggestion of growing closer, Dorian had no idea what that meant. In the past with such friends, by this time they would have already taken their physical pleasure and either moved on, or continued for a time until satisfied and _then_ moved on. Not so with Judah. He had no idea how Judah dealt with such matters, but this delay was not typical of himself. But while it was different from his usual pattern of behavior, he found that he wasn’t bothered by it.

So, what was it that _he_ wanted? Dorian wasn’t quite sure of that either. But he did know what he _didn’t_ want: to treat Judah as he had treated other men in his life, nor did he want to _be_ treated in that way. What could that mean? _Could_ there be more after sex? What would that even be like? Certain images flashed in his mind, unlikely possibilities that he would rather not hope for, or even consider at all.

The alcohol fuzzed his head and caused him to replay certain thoughts, yet he came no closer to a solution with each repetition. Taking up the glass, Dorian shook his head and scoffed at himself for thinking such things as he raised it to his mouth. He was startled when a hand came into view and took it from him, turning in time to see Judah drink it in his stead.

The heat of it made Judah grimace, but he smiled at his friend as he replaced the empty glass on the bar. “Thank you.”

Dorian looked at him askance as he said, “By all means, help yourself,” and then signaled Cabot for another round.

“I just did. Besides, didn’t you invite me to join you on some occasion?” Judah asked, snatching the next serving from the bar and consuming that as well before Dorian could.

“To join me with your _own_ drink, not to take mine.”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

Dorian leaned his head against his hand as he looked at his friend. “Am I still conscious?”

“Barely.”

“Then I haven’t had enough.”

Judah sighed. “Come on, time for bed,” he said, grabbing Dorian’s hand to lead him away from the bar, out the door and toward the keep proper.

Ah, now he was in more familiar territory. While Dorian’s hand might normally have stiffened in Judah’s grasp or even pulled away—such public displays between men were not done in Tevinter—the liquor loosened the bindings of his reserve and he allowed himself to be tugged along as he asked, “Really? And whose bed are we going to?”

“Yours.”

“I think we’d have more privacy in yours…”

“That would be true, _if_ we were going to be doing something that required privacy,” Judah replied, realizing that he had made a mistake in his previous phrasing.

“We aren’t?”

“No.”

“I bet I can change your mind.”

“I bet you can’t.”

“I haven’t even tried yet.”

“Don’t wear yourself out with the effort.”

Dorian laughed at the idea. “I think _you’re_ the one who’ll be worn out.”

“I’m not the one who can barely walk straight.”

“You have me there.”

And so Judah pulled Dorian along through the keep, holding his hand all the while, ignoring the occasional sideways glance and the assumptions that came with such glances.

Dorian thought that he was being made a spectacle of, though Judah didn’t seem to realize it, but had neither the desire nor the inclination to stop it. It was what he was used to, wasn’t it? This is what he _did_. This is who he _was_. It had been incredibly foolish to think things might be different here, and no matter how much he liked him—how much they liked each other—it had been equally foolish to even consider the _idea_ that Judah had wanted him for anything more than anyone else had. He was so tired of feeling this way and knew of only one thing that would make him forget, even for a brief time, the weight of wanting what he could never have. Judah was a sweet man; he would be gentle and caring, and perhaps that would be enough. It was all he was likely to get.

There were doorways and stairs and other obstacles, but they did manage to make it there at last. Once across the threshold to his own quarters, Dorian began removing pieces of his armor, caring not for where they fell. Judah had occasionally attempted to discreetly examine it while his attention was occupied elsewhere, his puzzlement over its structure only increasing the more he studied. He had no idea how Dorian got into or out of it, and neither did he learn so this evening as he was turned away while performing the task.

Most of the armor’s complication existed above the waist. Once the troublesome items were discarded, only a sleeveless, collared undershirt, along with pants and boots, were all that remained. Now satisfied and comfortable, Dorian turned about, closed the gap between himself and Judah with two quick steps, and pressed their lips together.

Judah’s intention had been to remain until Dorian was safely abed. A comfortable ease began to flow through him as he watched the other man undress. The two appropriated shots sent caution floating to the back of his mind, bringing forward his desire to watch Dorian disrobe completely, and perhaps even help him along. Despite the previous suggestive words, the sudden kiss—similar to their very first—was unexpected, but he was not stunned into inaction _this_ time. His lips parted as he allowed himself to give in.

Dorian drew Judah’s hands around his waist then moved one of his own to grasp the side of his neck as he deepened the kiss. His inebriation altered his balance and he leaned into it more heavily than he might have done had he been sober. While this wasn’t the first of such kisses they’d shared, it was a new feeling to have Judah’s body pressed so firmly against his and he found that he liked it; he was warm and steady, and his arms were a comforting pressure as they wrapped around him.

Judah tightened his fists in the folds of Dorian’s shirt as he felt heat bloom in his groin.

Feeling the response, Dorian broke the kiss with a bleary smile of satisfaction and said, “Didn’t I say I could change your mind?” Resuming the kiss, he brought his other hand between them to undo the clasps on Judah’s jacket.

Dorian’s words and action brought the reality of the situation into focus and cleared the haze of lust and liquor from Judah’s mind. “Stop,” he said, breaking the kiss again and moving Dorian’s hand away from his collar.

“You’re not being very consistent…”

Judah sighed, annoyed with himself. “I know. I shouldn’t have kissed back, especially after what I said before. I’m sorry.”

“You really don’t want to?”

He did. He really did. But not like this. “No.”

They still held onto each other and Dorian pressed his groin into Judah’s as he countered, “This says otherwise.”

Not trusting himself to speak right at that moment, Judah swallowed and backed away. He took a breath before saying, “Dorian, you can have me whenever you want. But it has to be for the right reason, and not when you’re drunk. Understand?”

Dorian didn’t quite know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. The drink had dulled his feeling and he found that he didn’t much care one way or the other. Judah’s words only amounted to a determined refusal; their full weight was lost as he simply responded, “Okay…” A wave of lethargy washed over him and he sat heavily on the bed, then fell over, leaving his feet to hang off the side.

Judah knelt and undid the buckles on Dorian’s boots, pulled them off, and then waited a moment as he situated himself on the bed before drawing the covers up snugly around him. He said a soft, “Good night,” and turned away, but an unexpected gripping hand kept him from leaving. Dorian’s eyes were closed, so he didn’t see the warm smile as Judah asked, “You want me to stay a while?”

“Mm-hmm…”

Leaning against the headboard, Judah partly reclined on the bed. Made for a single occupant, it was quite small for a pair of grown men and required that they be close together in order to fit. He took advantage of this proximity and began to run his fingers through Dorian’s hair, hoping it would smooth his way to a restful sleep, as well as taking his own pleasure in the intimate act.

Dorian threw his arm over Judah’s lap, not suggestive, but a casual, unconscious gesture of affection and want. His voice went into the corner created between the bedding and Judah’s hip, muffling the sound as he said, “Feels nice…”

No response was required, and so Judah simply sat in silence for a time, petting Dorian’s hair until a question occurred to him. “Is there any particular reason you were drinking yourself to oblivion?”

“Maybe.”

“Should I guess?”

“Can’t hurt t’ try.”

Only able to think of one thing that would cause such distress, Judah tried, “Meeting with your father dredged up bad feelings.”

“Yes… No… Felt that way for years. Nothing new.”

“Oh… Does it…” Judah hesitated, not knowing how to ask the question without seeming overly concerned with himself, “have to do with me?”

“Might.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“Not really.”

“All right,” was Judah’s response, thinking that would be the end of it. He was surprised when Dorian went on to explain, despite his refusal.

“Don’ know what this is…” Dorian began. Thoughts that were normally held close had been lubricated into release, slipping from his mouth as he drifted away toward sleep. “Don’ wan’ t’ want… Don’ want you… say… no…”

Other than the first clear words, the significance of the rest escaped him. “Say, ‘No,’ to what?” Judah asked, but got no answer after several seconds. “Dorian, are you asleep?”

“Hmm…” came Dorian’s non-committal reply, made only to the barest recognition of the sound of his own name.

Judah looked at the ceiling and sighed. His words, when they came, were almost a whisper; while addressed to Dorian, they were really more of an audible thought than anything else. “I don’t know what this is either. We’ll figure it out together.”

* * * * *

He was awake, but not quite. Still in the same position as when he fell asleep, Dorian drifted on the edge of awareness, feeling a headache lurking on the outskirts, waiting for him to make the sudden movement that would send it pouncing to punish his behavior with a dull, throbbing ache. He didn’t want to move. Judah was a comforting, firm, warm presence against him and he felt that if he could just lie there for a time everything would be just fine… Wait… The events of the previous evening intruded on his quest for peace and he started away from the man beside him, following through with the motion to lie on his back, arm draped over his head, groaning as the pain revealed itself.

Roused by the sudden movement and noise, Judah slowly came awake and stretched, stiff from having slept the entire night in the same recumbent position. “Good morning.”

“ ‘Good’?”

Judah made a sound of understanding. “Perhaps not. I’ll just say, ‘Hello,’ then.”

Dorian moved his arm aside to finally look at his friend, but otherwise remained prone. “Hi.”

“I don’t suppose there’s anything you want me to do for you?” Judah asked, his tone full of sympathy.

Dorian had a short, humorless laugh at the futility of the question. There were so many things, both mundane and meaningful, but he hardly felt up to articulating them.

“I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. It just sort of… happened.”

For two men who wanted to have sex with each other, simply sleeping together should not have resulted in awkwardness, but it had. Dorian tried to ignore it as he said, “I can’t blame you. It _is_ a comfortable bed.”

Judah smiled. “Not as comfortable as mine.”

It was amazing that a single frivolous remark could allude to so much. Despite his pain, Dorian’s second laugh was one of genuine amusement, and the tension bled away.

Giving Dorian’s arm a parting squeeze, Judah said, “Well, I’ll leave you to do your morning thing,” rose from the bed and turned to leave, intending to head to his quarters to do his own “morning thing” before setting about the business of the day. As he approached the door, Dorian stopped him with a word.

“Judah,” he called, and when the person so named paused and looked at him expectantly, Dorian added, “Thank you.”

Although he did not understand the full meaning the thanks entailed, Judah nevertheless appreciated it and offered a warm smile before departing.

When Judah had gone and there was stillness and quiet, Dorian took several deep breaths. The pain in his head slipped one notch lower as he concentrated on a steady, rhythmic pattern of ins and outs. After a time, he centered himself and ran his now-glowing hand over his forehead and through his hair, sighing in relief as the worst of the pain melted away; it wasn’t completely gone, but he could live with the minor nagging that remained.

Rising at last, he went to the washstand and leaned against it as he looked at himself in the mirror. His behavior the previous evening had not been the best reflection of himself, and while Judah didn’t seem off-put by it he couldn’t tell with certainty. He knew they hadn’t done anything, but they almost had. If Judah hadn’t stopped them they surely would have. Judah stopped it… Maker, he felt like such an ass, both for his false assumption and his lack of self-control. He didn’t even know what “this” was and already he was afraid he’d fucked it up.

The weight of Judah’s words struck him. He could have him whenever he wanted, but it had to be “for the right reason.” What was that supposed to mean? He didn’t want his mind to formulate the answer, to string together a series of thoughts and ideas that might suggest a possibility.

“Kaffas,” Dorian said with a sigh, then began his morning task, hoping that the pleasant routine would drive the thoughts from his mind.

* * * * *

Later in the day, Judah crested the steps to the second floor of the tower and saw Dorian standing in his library nook, staring at an open book as if scanning for a particular piece of information. Dorian made no acknowledgement of his approach, seeming to be concentrated on the page before him. Judah kissed him on the corner of the mouth and said, “Hello again. Feeling better?” and was concerned to see him stiffen with unease.

Judah had occasionally greeted Dorian in this way, and while the other man didn’t usually respond, was not overly given to public displays—their first kiss seemed an exception—he was never _unyielding_. Perhaps he was being too forward. Despite what they had done—the sharing of a few, close, somewhat intense kisses—what they wanted to do and almost had done, Dorian was not comfortable with that level of affection in public. In consideration, he backed away and leaned against the nearer shelves, but still remained close enough to allow his voice to maintain a lower range so their words were kept relatively private.

“Yes, thank you. You’d be surprised at what a little magic can do for a hangover. I’m sure some of my countrymen would disagree, but it’s a shame more people can’t take advantage of it.”

“I hope you’ll oblige me, should I ever need the help,” Judah said with a smile.

Dorian released a single breath of quiet laughter, but otherwise had no response and returned his gaze to the book in his hands.

Judah felt that he was being dismissive and disliked it. Something had changed. There could only be one thing. “Dorian.”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember what I said last night?”

The book was forgotten as Dorian jerked his head up at the question, giving Judah his full attention. “Yes.”

“I still mean it. Nothing has changed.”

“But I—”

Judah held up a hand in interruption. “Nothing has changed,” he repeated. “I’m not bothered by what happened. You shouldn’t be either.” He saw the unease flow out of Dorian’s form as he said this and was relieved.

Not entirely sure what he’d intended to say, Dorian was grateful for the interruption. _But I unfairly assumed that was all you wanted, and it hurt, so I threw myself at you as a distraction._ Strongly felt in the moment, he was only partly conscious of this reasoning. It was not something he was willing to discuss with Judah, nor was the other man likely to understand it without further explanation, which he was unprepared to give. Moreover, it appeared from Judah’s behavior that morning, and at this very moment, that he didn’t care, and that his interest remained the same. _But I didn’t really understand it._ While not completely accurate, a part of him wanted Judah to clarify the statement. He wanted to know what to expect and hope for—or _not_ hope for—as they continued this dance of desire they were currently engaged in.

But Dorian said none of these things and only had a small smile at Judah’s words and manner as he stated, “Next time you should join me _before_ I get too tight to appreciate it. It’ll be more fun that way.”

Judah grinned and said, “I’ll try to remember that.”

 

Sometime later, Judah was handed an errant note by a fleeting messenger, regarding Dorian and an… amulet? What fresh new mystery was this? He would have to find out, wouldn’t he?

 

 

End.


End file.
